The Valkyries

"If then death is decreed for me," he said, "think you I will be at ease in Walhalla? Nay, Hella rather than such peace."

Then Brunnhilde's stem glance softened, and she marvelled that he so loved the woman.

"Then is eternal joy so worthless to thee?" she asked him softly. "Dost thou desire nothing but the woman who is sleeping there? Is nought else sweet to thy soul, and nought else desirable?"

And he looked at her with bitterness, and marked the softened glance of her eye. Yet though she appeared so young and so maidenly, her heart must needs be utterly cold, since she did not comprehend how a woman filled the heart of the man who loved her.

"Dost thou mock me?" he said. "For what else could I care than that which lies here? I think thou art a foe to me, and would gladly see harm and woe come to me. Be it so; and may my grief satisfy the greed and hunger of thy heart. But as for Walhalla – it is idle for thee to name it to me. Dost thou not see? Here is my heaven and my rest."

Then she began to understand the need of his heart, and with that she felt a tenderness for both him and the woman which was new to her.

"Yes, yes," she said, "I feel what thou feelest. But, Siegmund, what must be, must be. Leave her then to me. Safely and surely will I ward her and keep all harm from her."

And she would have lifted Sieglinde up and taken her to some hiding-place of safety, but he stopped her.

"Stay," said he, "she is mine, mine, and no other shall touch her. If so be that I must die, as thou sayest, it is better, it is better – for all the whole world is against her – that she should die, here, now. I will slay her myself as she sleeps, and death will come softly to her as a dream. Thus she will be at peace."

Then did the tumult and trouble in Brunnhilde's heart seethe and stir.

"No, no!" she cried. "Listen to me, for thou speakest wild words. The sacred pledge of love which thou hast given, for that I plead. Siegmund, Siegmund, thou canst not slay thy son!"

Yet he drew the sword, and brandished it.

"His is the blame," he cried, "who promised me victory with this sword, who now turns his back on me, faithless and untrue. Yet shall it aid me, for that with it I can give peace to her. Strike then, sword of need, sever both lives at once."

But at the sight of his sword uplifted to strike, all the woman in Brunnhilde rose invincible, and the solemn command of Wotan that she should fight for Hunding weighed lighter than chaff. In a moment her mind was made, and counting not the cost, she knew that she must needs befriend Siegmund and fight for him, and the thunders and terrors of Wotan had no weight with her. And with a cry she stayed his arm.

"Ah, I break," she cried. "I cannot do the deed that was laid on me. She shall live, she shall live, and instead of death I will bring thee the joy of victory. No longer fight I for Hunding; it is thee, Siegmund, whom my shield will shelter. So up, up; already the horns of battle sound nearer. What shall be, I cannot tell, but the sword thou wieldest is good steel, and the shield of me, Brunnhilde, will guard thee in the coming fight. Hail to thee, Siegmund, hail! At the fight I await thee."

All her face was afire with human love and pity, and so great a change was there from the look of that stern cold maiden and her pitiless beauty, that Siegmund could scarce believe that this was the same Brunnhilde. But at her words, joy and gladness uplifted him, and his heart, erstwhile full of despair and bitterness, was once more strong and hopeful. But Brunnhilde tarried not, for indeed, as she said, the horns of battle sounded near, but swung herself on to her horse, and rode swiftly off among the rocks towards the horns and approaching battle, and the noise of her horse's hoofs sounded fainter, and then was silent.

Now as they thus spoke together, behold the heavens had grown very black, and over the bright aspect of the sky had ridden swiftly up the storm-rack, low and sullen-looking, and torn into streamers and ribands of wrath. Already the hills and vales beyond had been entirely blotted out, and by now the clouds had reached even to that rocky ridge not far from where Siegmund sat, while mingled with the trouble and menace of the heavens came the blast of the horns of battle sounding ever nearer, and Siegmund knew that it was time for him to be gone to meet the black foe who awaited him. Then very gently he got up, and without waking Sieglinde, laid her back against the rocky seat, and once more bent over her, to see how she fared. The blessed balm of sleep had been spread over her eyes, and she was at rest, and her heart was unconscious of the wild alarms of war. And Siegmund wondered whether it was the maiden, who seemed so fierce and cold, but whose soul at the end had been touched with so gentle and womanly a pity, who had shed this gift on the woman, thinking that the clash of swords and the din of battle would daunt her. Then even as he bent over her she smiled in her sleep, as if some happy dream had come to her. So he kissed her very gently on the forehead, marvelling that the trumpet-calls, which grew swiftly nearer, disturbed her not, and whispered to her —

"Sleep sound, beloved, till the battle be overpast, and peace, the peace of victory, welcome thy waking."

Then for the last time he turned from her, for peace was not yet, until Nothung his sword had spoken sharp words with its flaming tongue. Swiftly he strode up the rocky ridge, where the embattled thunder-clouds swallowed him up, nor was there any fear in his heart: only he longed to see Hunding face to face, and drive vengeance home.

But Sieglinde lay there smiling in her sleep, for it was even as Siegmund had supposed, and she was a child again living with her mother in the forest. Yet even as Siegmund left her, the tranquillity of her sleep was shaken, and it seemed to her that her father and the boy Siegmund were in the forest together, and though the hour was late, they had not yet returned. And she cried to her mother that her heart misgave her, for she was troubled with the looks and the words of certain strangers. Then in her dream the sweet air of the forest grew foul and black, and smoke swirled silently out of the woods, and tongues and fingers of flame came nearer, and the house where they dwelt caught fire. Then aloud she cried on Siegmund to save her, and with her own cry awoke. Yet was it not perhaps her own cry that woke her, but the sudden and sharp din of thunder near by, and starting up she saw she was alone, and all round her were storm-clouds of awful blackness, and from one to another shot the fires of lightning, and the thunder bellowed when it saw them. And mixed with the lightnings and thunders were the red cries of the horns of battle. Then, and her heart stood still when she heard, from not far off came the voice of Hunding, which she knew well and hated.

"Wehwalt, Wehwalt!" it cried, calling her beloved by the name he had shed as trees shed their leaves in autumn. "Where are thou? Wait for me; I am coming swiftly; else shall my hounds make thee stay."

Then in answer came the voice she knew and loved; "Think not to hide from me, Hunding," it cried, "for all that the storm is so black and blinding. The father of the gods himself shall not hide thee from me. Stay where thou art and I will surely find thee."

And his voice grew louder as he spake, so she knew that he was coming nearer.

Then from the ridge close behind came Hunding's voice again, not a stone's-throw off, yet in the thick darkness she could see nought.

"O shameful wooer!" it cried. "In Fricka's hand is thy lot set."

And immediately Siegmund answered, being also come to the selfsame ridge —

"Still dost thou think I am weaponless, coward and fool that thou art? Thinkest thou to terrify me by thy woman-champion? Fight me, fight me. Remember thou the sword in thy house which none could move. Lightly I unsheathed it, and its tongue shall lick up thy life-blood; for thy life-blood it thirsts, and soon will I give it to drink."

Then came a flash of lightning from the cloud, and Sieglinde saw them as phantoms on the edge of the ridge already at fight And she rushed towards it, not being able to bear that sight, calling loudly on them to stay, or first to kill her, and then settle their quarrel. But ere she was come to the ridge, a blinding light broke out of the cloud above the head of Siegmund, so strong and glorious that she was dazzled and fell back from before it. But in the middle of that light there appeared Brunnhilde floating there, and lo! her shield was held out so that it protected Siegmund and sheltered him. And she cried loudly to her hero, in a fierce merriment —

"Have at him, Siegmund; thy sword is safe under my shield."

Then was Siegmund's heart uplifted, and he drew back his arm for a deadly stroke at Hunding, when even as it was about to fall, right over Hunding's head broke out a red and lurid light, full of wrath and anger, and in the midst stood Wotan, standing over the other, with his spear outstretched over against Siegmund. And in the voice at which all earth and heaven trembles —

"Thy sword is shivered, Siegmund," said he. "Wotan's spear is stretched against thee. Sink thou back from it."

Then did Brunnhilde quail in panic terror before her father, and her shield no longer covered Siegmund. And the mighty blow of his sword struck on that outstretched spear and was shivered, and into his breast did Hunding thrust his sword, so that he fell and moved no more. And Sieglinde, beholding, gave one bitter cry, and sank swooning to the ground. But as Siegmund fell, the great light which had shone round Brunnhilde was swallowed up in darkness, and the red light round Wotan was extinguished also. And under cover of the darkness Brunnhilde, though stricken sore with the fear of the wrath of Wotan, yet was mindful of the woman Sieglinde, whom she had sworn to befriend, and she stole down from the ridge crouching, yet firm of purpose, to her side.

"To horse! to horse!" she cried; and seeing that Sieglinde's senses were gone from her, she gathered her up in the strength of her noble womanhood, and with that burden in her arms mounted her horse Grane and galloped off away from the open places that she might hide her from the wrath to come. Nor was she too soon, for presently after the clouds were parted and rolled away, and lo! on the ridge stood Wotan, and at his feet lay Siegmund. And as Wotan looked at him his godlike mind was torn with agony and woe unspeakable. As yet Hunding saw not the god, for his eyes were not opened, and cruelly with his foot on the man he wrenched out his sword from his breast. And at that, seeing that he who had fallen was noble, and the other but a black cur from the forest, Wotan turned to him and opened his eyes.

"Get thee hence, slave," said he, "and tell Fricka that by the spear of Wotan is her vengeance wrought. Begone!"

And in contempt he waved his hand, and before that withering scorn Hunding sank down dead. Then suddenly fierce anger seized Wotan, for he thought of what Brunnhilde had done, and how she disobeyed his command, and made scorn of his words.

"Woe to her, woe to her!" he cried. "Dire and dread shall be her portion for this day's work. With the reined lightning and the bridled thunder follow I after her, swift on the wings of the storm."

And at his word the winds of heaven and all the hurricanes of the air rushed to his bidding, and seated in his chariot of storms he drove on Brunnhilde's trail.

CHAPTER VIII

THE FLIGHT OF BRUNNHILDE

Now on that day on which Brunnhilde disobeyed the behest of Wotan, and instead of slaying Siegmund, and bringing his soul to Walhalla where he would abide with the other heroes, shielded him, yet to little purpose, the glorious company of the Valkyries, who were eight in number, and all her sisters, being likewise the daughters of Wotan and born of Erda, were out to battle and fight with the heroes of the sons of men, whom they bore to Walhalla, there to defend its lofty walls and sit at wine with their fellows. All that day had they ridden on their quests, and when it was towards evening they began to gather, as they had appointed, on the top of a certain rocky height, there to number their spoils, and go all together, a wild and joyous company, to the halls of Walhalla, there to gladden the heart of their father Wotan with what they had done.

High and open to the winds of heaven was their trysting-place, a region of bleak mountain land, a very crown of the world. Steeply rose its barren cliffs on all sides but one, and here a pine wood clung to the hillside, in the shade and shelter of which they might tether their horses, as they waited for the gathering of their sisters. Great storms had raged all day, and as evening came on their violence was in no whit abated, but seemed to grow ever fiercer. But little did the Valkyries heed such menaces, for their joy was in storm, and they drank deep from whirlwinds as a thirsty man will drink of a bowl of wine, and feel his strength come back to him; and the swifter the blasts screamed over the terror-stricken earth, the swifter did the Valkyries ride on their errands, and the louder and more joyous sounded their fierce, glad battle-cries of death. High and untamed of heart were they, and maidens all of them, for of men they had no thought, save only that men were the game and quarry of their hunting, and they loved a strong man's strength only because thus the fighting was the fiercer, and the nobler and braver was the foeman whose soul they should carry to Walhalla, there to have life eternal breathed into it by Wotan. But of the fierceness of love they knew nought, nor cared to know: danger and death had brighter eyes for them than a lover.

All day had their trysting-place stood empty and buffeted by the winds and rains, for far distant were the quests on which the sisters had gone, and wild and shrill was the music of the storm. Now with a scream the wind would awake and yell among the rocks, and the beating of the rain was like the sound of the drums that call to war. Then the shrillness of the storm would abate, and for a while it would moan with low and flute-like notes among the stems of the pine-trees, and whisper among their nodding tops, as if with a false promise of peace. Then in fresh anger, as of hounds a-yelp, it would break out again, and with shrill trumpetings scream among the sharp edges of the rocks, or vibrate like to a twanged string round the stumps of trees and weep like some lost soul among the thick-stemmed bushes. But towards evening, though the rain abated not, nor the mad riot of the winds, a man might hear very far away the rhythmical tramping of some deathless steed, as one of the wild Valkyries approached, or far away a light would break out among the clouds showing where another rode lightly on the very winds and airs of heaven. Thus flying and galloping from every quarter of the world, that glorious company began to assemble, and the storm screamed welcome to them with many voices.

Legion were the questions each had to ask of the other, as to how she had sped that day, and what hero she brought back slung across her saddle-bows, and joyful were the greetings with which each hailed the other. Some, too, had brought with them the horses of the slain, and loud were the neighings and whinnyings in the wood as horse smelt filly, and cocked his ear and swished his tail for very joy of the life that was in him. But the noblest of all were the steeds of the Valkyries, and these they tied up to the trees while they waited for their full company to gather; and they cared for them tenderly, for it was by the deathless strength of their noble steeds that they rode so swiftly on their wide errands of death. Again and yet again flared the wild light of their approach, and on the saddle of each was swung a hero, for all had prospered that day, and joyfully they spoke together of the gathering there would be in Walhalla that night when they returned triumphant, and how Wotan would be well pleased at their prowess; while high rose the mirth at the table where sat the heroes, as their new brethren made whole again, and filled with eternal life by the power of Wotan, sat them down in wonder and amaze at the glory and joy that awaited them, when their eyes were opened after the sleep of death, to behold the dawning of the everlasting day.

And by now all the maidens were gathered but one only, for Brunnhilde, the eldest and the most noble of them all, had not yet returned from her quest, and the sisters wondered that she should delay so long. But one, thinking that they were all gathered, asked another why yet they delayed, for the sun was near its setting, and it was time they set forth to go to Walhalla with their spoils.

But she to whom her sister spake, replied —

"Not yet are we all gathered, for Brunnhilde comes not yet. Her deed to-day, as I know, my sisters, was with the Wolsung Siegmund, and she tarries long, for he fights for a woman, and men in such case are ever fiercest Yet may we not go to Walhalla till she is come, for what welcome, think you, we should get from Wotan, came we before him lacking his heart's darling? Dear are we all to him, but she is the dearest, and to us the dearest of all is she."

Meantime another of the eight, Siegrune, had climbed to the topmost ridge of rock, and looked out as best she might through the blinding storm, to see if Brunnhilde approached. Then suddenly the others below heard her shout of joyful war-cry, with which the sisters were wont to hail each other.

"She comes, she comes!" she cried, "and the speed of her coming is like the passage of the lightning, and as thunder the rides on the wings of the wind."

Then they all called aloud on her, and another sister, Waltraute, swiftly ran up to where Siegrune sat.

"See, she rides to the wood, and her good Grane labours sore. How spent he seems with her headlong speed."

And yet a third climbed up beside the two others.

"The wildest, fiercest ride that ever Brunnhilde sped," she cried. "But see! what lies on her saddle? No hero is it."

Then as the maid came nearer, riding on the wings of the storm, they saw that it was no hero indeed she carried, but a woman; and swiftly they hurried down to the wood to meet her, for that a Valkyrie should bring back a woman as spoil was in truth a new thing. And as they ran down they questioned one with another what this could be. They saw, too, that her good horse Grane was utterly spent with the gallop, and this, too, was a new thing, for Grane had the stoutest heart and the most untiring limbs of any horse in earth or heaven.

Then came Brunnhilde towards them through the trees, giving her support and strength to the woman Sieglinde, whom she led. Round her neck was Sieglinde's arm laid, yet scarcely even so could she put foot before foot, for like Grane the strength of her body was spent utterly, and her soul was sore with all that had come upon her. Then with hands outstretched in entreaty came Brunnhilde to them; and that, too, was a strange thing and a new, for of them all she was the blithest.

"Save me, sisters," cried she, "for harm follows hard after me, and I who never yet fled from any man fly now, and behind me in thunder and relentless pursuit follows the War-father."

And down she sank on a seat of rock, still supporting her whom she led.

But wonder and amazement seized on the sisters, and it seemed that she must be distraught and her wits, astray that she spoke so, for how should Wotan, whose darling she was, and whose very will she mirrored, be up in wrath against her?

Then Brunnhilde cried out again —

"Run to the topmost ridge, my sisters, and tell me if ye see aught. Look to the northward and say if the father comes, and if he is yet in sight, for I have fled before him. All day I have fled before him, and my heart is gone from me, for he rides furiously."

Then did the sisters do her bidding, and lo! to the northward there rose in the sky a great cloud, separate from the storm down which Brunnhilde had steered, and it rose high and black and moved very swiftly, and out of the midst of it came thunderings and lightnings, nor could they doubt but that this was Wotan riding on the clouds, his chariot. Then returned they and told Brunnhilde what they had seen, and she was very sore afraid, for she too knew that fast in pursuit came Wotan from the north, and that he came in wrath and terrible anger. And again she cried —

"Save me, my sisters, and shield the woman. Ye know not who she is, but I will tell you all and quickly, for there is no time to lose. Sieglinde is it I bring, the sister of Siegmund the Wolsung and his bride. Wotan this day, for Fricka's sake, doomed to death the Wolsung, and bid me forsake him whom ever I had loved. And obey I could not, for my heart allowed me not, and instead of forsaking him, and fighting against him, I sheltered him with my invincible shield. But on the other side fought Wotan, and against his spear was Siegmund's sword shattered. Then fear seized me, and I fell back, so that my shield no longer sheltered him, and by Hunding's sword did Siegmund fall. And with this woman fled I before the wrath that is coming, and hither I came, for with your help maybe the fulness of his displeasure shall be turned from my head."

Then were all the sisters filled with sorrow and amazement that she had disobeyed the word of Wotan, and scarce could they believe that she had dared to do this thing, for that Wotan's word should not be obeyed was a thing unthinkable, and they were sorely grieved. And ever from the north, like night, came the storm-chariot of Wotan nearer, and they knew the growing roar of the thunder to be the whinnying of the wild horses that he drove.

But Brunnhilde looked on Sieglinde, and as she looked all fear for herself was merged in pity for her, and again she spake to her sisters.

"Sisters, sisters, woe and destruction waits this woman if she abides the coming of Wotan, for with fire and wrath and the utmost terror of his face he wars against the Wolsungs. So, for my horse Grane is spent, lend me, I pray you, one of yours, that with her I may flee again and make her safe."

Then, though they all loved Brunnhilde, and she entreated each in turn, yet none would do this, for Wotan was their father, and not even at Brunnhilde's prayer could they turn from him. Thus she knew not which way to turn for help, and she bent over Sieglinde, and for pity of her and for sorrow she kissed her and embraced her lovingly. And at that caress Sieglinde, who till now had taken no part or lot in this wild war of words, but had sat as one who saw not nor felt, looked up into Brunnhilde's eyes, and saw all the sorrowful loving-kindness which sat there, and made such softness in her eyes.

"It is enough," she said, "for death, now Siegmund is dead, terrifies me not at all, and I would not that harm came to thee for my sake. Would that some blow in that strife had fallen on me, so that I might have died with him. Indeed I will not be parted from him. So, O thou holy and dear maiden, who hast been so tender to me, let me not live and curse thy tenderness, but hearken to my prayer, and strike me to the heart with thy sword. Strike strongly of thy strength."

And Brunnhilde spoke low to her and earnestly. "Ah, not so, not so," she said. "Cast not his love away, the pledge of which he has given thee. For hidden deep in thee lies another life; from thy womb shall spring a Wolsung."

Then did the mother awake in the woman, and all her face was flushed as with sunrise by a holy joy. Though she had no fears for herself, yet it could not be that the begotten of Siegmund should perish, and she thought of her unborn babe.

"Ah, save me and shelter me," she cried, "and shelter my helpless babe. O, ye maidens, I call you to save me and hide me from the wrath of Wotan."

Then suddenly came the voice of Waltraute from the topmost rock. "The storm is at hand," she cried. "Get thee hence, ere it fall on thee."

At that the others cried to Brunnhilde to get hence with the woman, for they dare not ward her from Wotan, and Sieglinde fell on her knees, and as mother of a child that should yet be born, besought Brunnhilde to save her for the sake of her motherhood that should be.

Then did Brunnhilde commune swiftly with herself, for lacking a horse she could not hope to flee with the woman before the face of Wotan. Yet when she spake her voice trembled, for she was afraid. But by no other way could she save Sieglinde and that holy seed.